I can't see you, Nor can I feel you, Hence believe you, Though:
I can see the hues, Feel the blues and hear the news. I can't see you I just don't seem to get enough of you.
I can feel your presence, Yes, you, my very essence I can't see you I can feel your touch softer than the softest gentler than the gentlest teasing at least Then the hand is withdrawn: faster than the fastest.
The touch, a touch of unyielding lust, the purpose originating in a sensual mind. Guessable perverted intent - Mildly disguised in public, though in no way unknown to me - the benefactor. Flavors of the incorrigible temptress playing havoc with my senses, like steroids on a biker, nothing short of wild, never have you been associated with mild. Every inhalation brings memories new, though few, They are fond memories of you, My love. But I still can't see you.
